Drabble and Short Story Collection
by AntebellumHope
Summary: #3. Mikey tries science.
1. Chapter 1

Raphael groped for the trash can beside his bed, still blinded by the images behind his eyes. There was no light to search by; he slept with his door shut and bolted, usually with no need to know the location of his furniture in the dark. The sickness had taken him suddenly, and addled by sleep and violent nausea, he was unable to do more than roll onto the floor before he vomited. He heaved again and again, forced to all fours by his lurching stomach. Bile, mucus, and partially digested pizza were expelled through his raw throat and lips, dripping off the end of his beak as the nightmare and his stomach's twisting subsided. He coughed and spat, trying to rid himself of the taste. Away from his hammock and regrettably awake, he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and reached to flick the switch on the small reading lamp.

He rubbed a hand over his face. _Been a while since I've had one like that._

The last time had been - what? Two years ago? Three? - when they were still living out in the sewer system. He and his brothers had shared the common room for entertainment, training, and sleep. Leo and Don had tactfully ignored him, but Mikey had taken one look at the mess and nearly been sick himself.

He sigh at the memory, spat again, and stood. The clock beside the lamp read 4:00am. Sensei would be up soon, and the others soon after that. Best he go down now, before anyone caught a whiff of the sweat or puke on him. He was taken slightly aback at the cool, fresh air that filled the halls and wafted into the fetid stench of regurgitation. The door shut with a careful _click_ , and he made his way down to the kitchen.

Mikey had begged off cooking duty, so pizza was the default entree. The stack of empty boxes in the garbage bin swayed uncertainly as he passed. Soft blue light lay across the stone threshold, chairs, and table, the large crystal chandelier having plenty of light to share. Crimson sauce stains dotted the aged wood, as though something had been slaughtered upon it. The thought made the knots in his stomach tighten suddenly.

With a groan, he shook himself and pulled a cold soda from the fridge. He sipped it as he contemplated the nightmare's return. He knew what had brought it on: he'd nicked Donatello during a sparring session the day before. He grimaced to himself. "Nick" was probably too gentle a term for the gash on his brother's upper arm.

* * *

 _Donatello brought the bo down from above his head, with a force that would have shattered Raphael's skull had it connected. Raph blocked high, grinning. This was one of Donnie's favorite moves. He stepped back, preparing to thrust low and hard to catch the reverse sweep that would follow. It was a powerful attack, or at least would have been had Don completed it. With horror, Raph realized a half a second too late that his low jab was on a collision course with Donatello's shoulder, the latter having begun to stoop for a drop kick. The sai entered Don's shoulder with a meaty thunk, neatly severing skin, muscle, and connective tissue on its way through._

 _Donnie stiffened and dropped his staff with a grunt before collapsing rather ungracefully into a bleeding heap. The sai wasn't quite buried to the hilt, but it was close enough. Raph had been struck dumb by his carelessness and could only watch in silence as Donnie's grasped at the wound, paused momentarily to measure its depth, then grit his teeth and pulled the blade out. Blood came out in a gush so sudden that his family was reanimated. Leonardo bolted for the lab, looking for a first aid and surgical kit. Splinter and Michelangelo raised a swearing Don into a sitting position._

 _Splinter spoke sharply. "Raphael. Remove your weapons."_

 _He barely remembered tossing aside his other sai and his belt before coming to his injured brother's side. Donnie winced as he gave directions. "Master Splinter, heat the needle over a fire. A...match will do. Raph." Raphael jerked. "You and Mikey told it open. Leo, clean it. Iodine."_

 _They scrambled to follow his orders, pulling off gore encrusted elbow pads and wrist braces. Michelangelo hovered over Don with a look of concern. The latter tried for a reassuring smile only to have it morph into a hideous snarl as the iodine seeped into the wound. Of them all, Donatello had the neatest hand at suturing, but Leonardo was the fastest. They all sat in silence as he worked, listening to the deceptively soothing_ thwip, schiiick, thwip, schiick _of the needle piercing flesh and pulling the silk thread through. Donnie had gone pale and clammy, having refused all pain medication until the job was done. Leo pulled the thread tightly and knotted it. He tugged gently at his work, checking its security, before giving Don's leg a brief squeeze and allowing him to relax into oblivion._

* * *

Raphael could feel his arms tingle, remembering the weight of his unconscious brother in a fireman's carry. They'd left him asleep on the couch, but he'd woken up an hour later and trudged off to his lab. Raph ran a hand across his head and sat down. He scratched absently at the flecks of red on the wood.

 _Still early. Maybe I can get in a run before practice._

He'd about made up his mind to wipe up the mess and leave when a shadow crossed the threshold. His head snapped up as Donnie shuffled into the room, his gait thrown off by the thick layer of bandages.

"It's been a while since I've seen you up this late."

"Yeah, couldn't really sleep. Sorry," he added with a nod at his brother's arm.

Donatello shrugged with his good shoulder. "Accidents happen." He gave an ironic smile. "I thought you kept those things dulled."

Raphael returned the smile. "So did Master Splinter. Yer really lucky you were unconscious for that part."

The tongue lashing after the harried surgery had been one of the worst he'd ever gotten and was followed by two straight hours of sai work against _bokken_ and the training post. The wooden beatings had sufficiently dulled his blades to butter knives.

A thought struck him. "Why are you up anyway?"

Donnie grimaced. "Pain. Came to get something to chase the medicine with."

Raph pushed the half empty cola toward him. He accepted with a grateful nod, tossed back two pills, and chugged the rest of the beverage. They sat together quietly, each entertaining their own thoughts. Raph almost thought that Don had fallen asleep with his head in his hands when the latter glanced up with a knowing look.

"What was it this time?" He asked gently.

Raphael felt his shoulders tense. "Toldja, couldn't sleep."

"You've never gotten sick quietly, Raph," Don patiently pointed out. "And never like that unless you've been dreaming."

Raph sat very still, to reign in his trembling before he spoke. "It don't happen of'en, but..." His eyes glinted with dark curiosity. "Ya ever think about the first time ya killed? The first time ya meant to, I mean."

Donnie looked surprised. "Of course." He shuddered. "It's not really anything you forget."

Raph snorted. Master Splinter had made sure of that.

* * *

 _It had been close to a year now that they had had real weapons. Splinter had surprised them on their last birthday with the ninjaken, bo, sai, and nunchaku and had begun in earnest to train them int the safe handling and maintenance of them. Each of the brothers was beginning to show a preference, and as such, Splinter had announced that after this morning's lesson, he would begin to train each of the four to be a master of an art. There had never been any ten year olds more excited._

" _Before we begin the lessons of mastery, my sons, I would like each of you to present yourself and your chosen weapon to me. You may train with whatever weapons you choose at any time this week, but make your personal selections within this time frame."_

 _Michelangelo had been the first. Within a day, he had come bounding to Splinter's door brandishing the nunchaku. Splinter nodded with approval and beckoned Mikey aside. Mikey's eyes went wide at Splinter's hushed instructions, but he gave a shaky nod, took up his weapons and followed the old rat out into the maze of sewer. The other three had twittered amongst themselves. Solo missions with Splinter_ and _real weapons?! How incredibly lucky was Mikey!_

 _Only...maybe he wasn't. When they returned, Splinter was carrying Mikey, who appeared to have exhausted himself crying. Splinter said nothing to his other three sons as he passed, going to lay Michelangelo on the cot in the common room. He pried the nunchaku out of limp fingers and sat beside his youngest son. From inside of his robe, he removed an old orange mask and tore it into four long lengths, binding a ribbon around each of the four sticks. Raising the paired weapons above his head, he blessed them in Japanese and laid them at Mikey's feet._

 _Over the next two days, the others were a bit more cautious with their choosing, but the time came when Leonardo knew he could no longer deny his calling. He lifted the ninjaken from the weapon rack and knocked hesitantly on their master's door. Raphael and Donatello huddled together, anxious as they saw Leo give the same bewildered nod to the whispered directions and turn to follow Splinter. Mikey pretended not to have seen. Leo and Master Splinter were gone longer than Mikey and Splinter, but the outcome was the same. Leo's face was tear streaked and pale, and as soon as he was over the threshold, he sunk to his knees and puked. Splinter had stayed close until he was through, wiped his mouth, then taken the swords and a tattered blue cloth and sat beside Leo's cot._

 _The next day, Don took a deep breath and rapped expectantly on his sensei's door, bo in hand. His face was passive as Splinter presumably gave him the same words as he had the others. He nodded to his master and they headed out. Later, Donnie returned ahead of Splinter, face flushed from running. He made a bee line to the covered corner he'd marked as his "lab," stole behind the hanging sheets, and began throwing things. Raph could hear carefully collected beakers and mason jars shattering as they hit the wall. The cacophony died down some minutes before Splinter entered the lair. Again, he repeated the ritual blessing of the weapon and laid it at the foot of Donatello's cot. As he stood, he fixed his last son in a sad stare. Raph liked nothing he saw in those eyes at that moment._

 _Long after Splinter retired for the evening, Raphael was still turning restlessly to and fro on his pallet. He felt a wisp of movement beside him. Leo had risen to pace, trying to wear himself out to sleep. Perfect._

 _Raph cornered his (slightly) older brother by the door, far enough from the others to talk. "So what happened to you guys?"_

 _Leo started. " N-nothing."_

" _Like shell, 'nothin','" Raph snorted, entirely too irritated that he didn't know any better swear words. "All of ya have been actin' weird and none a ya 'll talk ta me about it. What gives?"_

 _Leo looked like a caged animal, desperate to get out and away. "Master Splinter said no-"_

" _Splinter ain't awake right now. I won't tell, I just wanna know."_

 _Leonardo kept his eyes down, afraid to look at his brother. He whispered, "He made us kill."_

" _What?"_

" _I said, 'He made us kill.'" Leo choked out. "So that we would know how...it felt. It was...they were strays, sick and dangerous, or the big rats that carry disease...they would have hurt someone eventually, but...still."_

 _Raph laughed incredulously. "That's_ it? _What's so hard about killin'?"_

" _It's not what's so hard, it's what's so_ easy, _Raphael," snapped Leo sharply, sounding much, much older than ten. Then his gaze softened. "But you'll know that soon enough."_

* * *

"You actually _laughed_?" Donnie's tone was some blend of amusement and horror.

Raph shrugged. "I was ten. I was cocky." Don gave him a long look. "Okay, okay, I'm still cocky, but its worse when yer young 'n' stupid enough to mix up bravado and courage."

Donnie was still giving him a dubious eye as he massaged his shoulder. "So? Was it easy for you?" The question was laced with more than a little bitterness.

Raph locked his fingers together behind his head, considering his answer. "Yeah..yeah, it was." His mouth was fixed in a taut line as he met Donnie's eyes. "But the dyin' was a whole helluva lot harder."

* * *

 _The next night was gonna be his night with Splinter, and he had wanted to show his brothers that something that came easy as killing was easy to do and live with. He was going to be fearless, fierce, and first to achieve mastery. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, popping in and out of manholes alone, looking for his victim. If Splinter caught him...well...better not to think of that. After almost two hours of searching, he hit the jackpot: a rabid, mangy cat no one would miss._

 _The cat had been more than willing to leap into the manhole after a snack sized turtle, fangs barred. Raph had been jubilant as the sai punctured the underbelly of the cat. The animal was foaming at the mouth, overtaken by delirium and rage. It raked its claws viciously upward, trying to gut the nimble turtle. Raph danced out of the way with ease, lashing out at the back and scraping a protruding vertebrae. The back limbs sagged, nerves deadened. The cat howled, army crawling away from his aggressor. At first Raph had been too giddy to notice the growing trail of blood and innards spreading across the tunnel floor. Then the poor creature fell into a mutilated heap. Raphael could see blood squirting with every heartbeat. He'd hit an artery; the dying would be fast._

 _But not fast enough._

 _It's breathing was harsh and labored, like a great monster on the prowl. It swung its head side to side, trying to shake off the pain and hallucinations. The useless bottom half of the animal had released its bowels, the stench of fresh urine and feces a sharp contrast to the diluted slop running through the trenches. A part of Raphael wished Master Splinter was there. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to just...well...just die and be dead and not making such a horrible noise and bleeding and pissing everywhere._

 _The cat panted, eyes growing wide. It was afraid. Raph inched closer, despite the hissing, reaching to pat the wavering head. A moan erupted from the feline's throat. The cat caught the young turtle's eye, laying its head aside, neck exposed...begging for an end._

* * *

"I cut him here." Raph touched a finger to his jugular. "And he died. It was after that, stayin' by the dyin' and then the dead, did I undastand."

"And the nightmares followed," Don mused.

Raph nodded. "Yeah, then them." He moved suddenly, grabbing Donatello's injured shoulder with force. "It was you. In my dream." The words spilled out before he could stop them. "We were sparring, and you dropped for the kick, but I didn't hit yer shoulder." He moved a finger to rest lightly on his brother's throat. Donatello felt his pulse accelerate as the finger pressed firm on his carotid.

"It was there." Raph's voice was hoarse. "And I couldn't be a murderer again."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This is set when they are roughly 8-10 years old and still living out in the sewers. Please read and review!

Raphael wasn't sure what had woken him. He sat up and listened intently to the night quiet that had settled over his home. To his left, his younger brother was snoring away into a pillow, occasionally flailing as he dreamed. The pillowcase was full of holes from years of use and covered in drool, but Mikey insisted that sleeping without it was impossible. Raph knew why. Within it, Michelangelo kept a single photo of Central Park as viewed through a sewer gate. Raph knew Sensei would have been furious had he known that the picture existed, so he had told Mikey to keep it with his bed.

Beyond Mikey's tattered cot, his eldest brother lay in fitful sleep, limbs rigid beside him. It was odd to see Leo sleeping. His brow was often relaxed and his face open, allowing Raph a glimpse of the kid Leo might have been – fun, adventurous, perhaps even a little wild. As Raph watched, Leo apparently entered a dream. His lips moved as though he was biting one in thought, and the slight scowl he wore while training crept onto his countenance. Raphael snorted. Figured big brother even dreamed about their lessons.

The night air was still warm and inviting, a sign that Master Splinter was also close by. The few times Splinter had left early to go scavenging, they had all woken up to a cold atmosphere and been unable to go back to sleep until their father returned.

 _So it's Donnie._

Donatello usually slept a few yards behind Raph, closest to the back corner where he kept his experiments and trinkets. Though Donnie was likely more interested in making sure no one (meaning Michelangelo) went traipsing around the lab when he was sleeping, Raph had always felt better knowing Don had his six. He flipped over on his cot, and sure enough, Donnie was gone. The clock Don had found and pieced back together read 3:39a.m. Raphael sighed, weighing his options for all of three seconds before tossing his own covers aside, putting his gear on, and heading out into the sewers.

The sewers seemed fuller than usual. The run off was flowing faster, and its contents were lapping at their boundaries. A rainstorm had settled over the city then. Donnie loved to sneak out during the storms to see what debris had been washed down. Master Splinter had significantly less appreciation for unapproved field trips, though, and he was going to be up soon. Best Donnie be found and at least back in the lair before Sensei noticed their absence. Raph had jogged roughly half a mile before he found some damp and discarded boxes that had been fished out of the muck and emptied before being tossed aside. He sighed. Don must have found something good if he was too absorbed in it to cover his tracks. Raph tossed the garbage back into the slop and continued on.

After another fifteen or so minutes of tracking and cleaning up his brother's messes, he came to a junction. Four tunnels branched out in all directions. Two led back the way he came, one was straight ahead, and the last a few degrees off his left. The smallest tunnel was well lit with streetlight that had filtered through the sewer grates. Raph swallowed nervously. The topside was fascinating to be sure, but it was equally terrifying to be staring it in the face while missing a brother. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself and noticed a line of muddy, half-dried footprints headed straight down that path. He sighed again and let his body go where his mind resisted taking him.

The tunnel was old and musty. Cobwebs shuddered as he bent around jutting pipes and bricks, praying they were unoccupied. Something light tickled his arm. He gasped and shook it off.

"Raph?"

Donnie was huddled under one of the open grates, clearly surprised to see his brother.

"Don!" Raph ran over to him. With a firm grip on his shoulders, Raph pulled him out of the stream of light and shook. "Whatdaya think you're doin'? What if someone'd seen you?"

Don looked abashed. "I'm..I'm sorry, Raph. I just wanted to see..." He fished a crumpled picture out of his belt. In it, a solitary streetlight shone into a rainy night. The few buildings that could be made out from the angle of the shot were lit up by purple streaks of lightning.

"A thunderstorm?"

Don nodded mutely, clearly still embarrassed as he tucked the photo back into his belt. "I-i-it was stupid, I know. But I found a few things for you guys, too, so it's not a complete waste." He gestured halfheartedly to a box behind him.

Raphael chewed on his bottom lip in thought. "Has the storm blown through yet?"

"I don't think so. Not...not the best part."

"Well, just don't sit right unda da grate when it does. You'll get drenched."

Don's eyes brightened at the words, then darkened again as Raph turned to go. "Y-you won't stay with me?"

Raph rubbed an uncertain hand over the back of his head, playing with his mask's tails. Leo and Mike were definitely better at handling this stuff than he was. "You know Splinter ain't gonna be happy with us, right?" But he plopped down next to the box of treats and motioned for Don to join him.

For over an hour, they sat in that cramped space, watching as the Donatello's picture came to life before them. It started off slow, but soon a veritable tempest swept through the city. The rain poured out of the clouds as if from a pitcher, a smooth river washing away the grime. Lightning arced over the buildings, angrily touching down to rods and trees that dared get in its way, and each time the thunder would rumble, Don inched closer and closer until he practically sitting on Raphael. Raph was somewhat annoyed but he kept a protective arm around his brother until the storm decided to spare the city and rolled off.

Raphael's internally clock told him it was nearly 5:30a.m. and Sensei was most definitely awake. He rolled his neck until it popped then stood. Donnie had been asleep for a while now, and Raph hated to wake him. He hefted his lighter sibling in arm and began the slow walk back to a lecture and a hard work out, leaving behind the box Don had collected. Donnie would be upset that it had been left behind, but Raph just smiled to himself.

He supposed they would just have to come back for it later.


	3. Chapter 3

#3- Mikey tries science.

Donatello poked his head out from under the damaged shell cycle and inhaled. The air was heavily perfumed by whatever Michelangelo was cooking. Don's stomach rumbled appreciatively. He checked the clock and was surprised to find noon was fast approaching. He looked down at himself. Grease smears ran up and down his arms and torso, and his hands were nearly black with grime. He shrugged to himself, supposing it was a small price to pay for finally finding time to repair the bike. Raphael had totaled it over a week ago doing Heaven knew what with Casey. It had apparently wound up in the river, and after fishing it out, they had brought it to the resident engineer, who had been significantly less amused by their antics. At least Raph had offered to lend a hand.

A faint clanging of dishes brought him back to the present. He huffed in the bike's general direction, figuring he may as well take a break. He trotted out into the main room, took a left, and snuck into the kitchen.

Now, watching Mikey cook was almost as intense as watching Leo train. Almost. Mikey went at it with the same determination and vigor, but that was where the similarities of the eldest and the youngest ended. Leo was methodical, exacting, poised, and precise. Regardless of the block, strike, or flip he executed, it was carefully placed power and grace; the watcher knew he wanted no part in facing Leo on the mats or on the street. Mikey on the other hand was...Mikey. The kitchen looked almost as bad as the garage. The knife in his hand massacred the broccoli on the cutting board, leaving green smudge and bits of stalk on the counter as he gathered it and dumped it in a frying pan with – Don sniffed – fresh onion and garlic. Mike carelessly tossed the pan on a heated eye before burying himself in the lowest level of the pantry; he nearly missed stirring the vegetables before they ignited.

Donnie sauntered into the room, examining the discarded bags and assortment of spices on the table.

"Coriander, turmeric, cumin, peppers of all kinds..." He looked up. "Curry?"

Michelangelo tossed an enthusiastic "Yeah!" over his shoulder as he whisked together a slurry of cornstarch and water. He kept back some in a smaller bowl, haphazardly whisking the rest of the mixture into the stir fry on the stove. Well, one of them. Don could see a second, smaller skillet on the back eye as Mikey moved to toss his used bowl in the sink. He backed up a bit as Michelangelo rushed stir the thickening sauce and remove it from heat before it turned into cement.

Mikey set the pan on a pot holder in front of a very hungry Donatello, held up a hand, and said, "Don't eat that." He spun to the stove to attend to the second curry.

Don made a face at the back of Mikey's head and (quickly) dipped a finger into the curry sauce. The savory herbs had a bit of a kick to them, but the sample stopped his stomach from grumbling quite as loudly.

"DUDE!"

Don jumped. "What?"

"Are you serious? I just told you not to eat that!" The expression on Mikey's face was a mix of agitation and concern and mirrored many a look Don himself had given to the younger turtle when the latter interrupted a particularly delicate experiment.

"What's the big deal?" Perhaps Mikey had wanted to surprise them with a new dish? Except that this wasn't new. Don was puzzled.

Mikey continued to fuss to himself as he took an extra ginger root and began chopping. "It had _coconut_ in it."

Don raised an eyebrow. "Aaaand?"

The chef brought a tea kettle out from the cupboard, placing the ginger slices and some cloves in it and filling it with water. He set it to boil. "You're allergic to coconut." 

Donnie made an amused noise somewhere between a snort and laugh. "I think I would know if I was, Mikey."

"Well, _I_ know that you are. And I also know you're going to be thanking me for that tea in a minute."

Mikey poured the rest of the slurry into the separated pan, and once it was thickened, he pulled the first away from his older brother. The pan now in front of Don looked exactly the same as the first. "This one is for you. I used cream instead of coconut milk."

"Wait, wait, wait." Don grabbed his sibling by the arm before he could begin cleaning. "You seriously think I'm allergic to coconut."

"I seriously know that you are allergic to coconut," the younger turtle replied.

"How?" challenged Don. He wasn't going to admit that Mike might have a point, but he was starting to feel a little...off.

"Well, at first I thought you were just getting sick or looking for a way to get out of what I was cooking, which was really offensive by the way, but you kept getting sicker after eating certain things, so I just played around with what I fed you until you didn't get sick any more."

Donnie blinked. "You were _experimenting_ on me?" He was proudly horrified that Mikey, of all people, had just given him a practical summary and application of the scientific method.

Mikey shrugged. "If you want to put it that way, yeah, sure." His eyes brightened. "Does this mean I can help you in your lab?"


End file.
